


Shake It Off

by darenotlove



Series: SNAFUBAR [8]
Category: Hanson (Band), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:17:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darenotlove/pseuds/darenotlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I told myself I didn't care. I told myself I wasn't gonna watch. </p><p>I lied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake It Off

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short piece of pointless fluff I felt like writing. Sometimes I hear a song and I start seeing things in my mind, kinda like a movie. This was one of those times. I was also inspired by a [short video](https://instagram.com/p/v_1RhzSjtM/) that Taylor's wife posted online a while back of Penny singing along to this particular song. ;) And then there's this [adorable video](https://instagram.com/p/xtXrlqshec/) of Taylor playing it at an after party in Cancun earlier this year.
> 
>  
> 
> TOMMY POV!

_ Hollywood Hills, California - April 30th, 2015 _

 

 

I've known for a few weeks now that my career is over. Well, my career as Adam's lead guitarist, anyway. Dealing with that loss was kinda like dealing with losing an actual person from my life. I guess, in some ways, I _did_ lose an actual person. I mean, Adam and I are still friends. I don't hate him or anything. But I don't really see us getting together for a drink or going out to dinner with our significant others anytime soon.

Not that we've done either of those things in a hell of a long time now.

Whatever. I dealt with it, I mourned the loss, and I moved on. I was over it. I still had Taylor and the kids, I had plans for the future, I was fine. Until today, when Adam premiered his new single on _Ellen_. I told myself I didn't care. I told myself I wasn't gonna watch.

I lied.

Watching it was like attending my own fucking funeral or something. Only it was like no one at my funeral was even all that sad that I was gone. And instead of getting all mopey and self-pitying about it, I got mad. Like I-need-to-get-the-fuck-out-of-this-house-before-I-break-something-expensive _mad_. It was the same degree of anger I felt on the day he 'dumped' me. The same anger that drove me to drink myself stupid and scare the crap out of Taylor by going MIA for the rest of the damn day.

But seeing Adam and his new band on _Ellen_ wasn't even the worst part. The worst part came directly after that, when the fans started weighing in online about my absence. I knew it was a mistake to check Twitter, but it's a well established fact that I suffer from a chronic case of masochism.  For the most part, people seemed disappointed that I wasn't going to be around anymore, and I felt pretty guilty for not giving them a heads up. I just didn't wanna deal with it. I didn't wanna cause trouble or be accused of trying to. So I kept my mouth shut and told myself that they probably wouldn't even notice I was gone.

They noticed alright.

The tweets I read ran the entire gamut of human emotion! Some people were confused, others angry. Some disappointed, some inconsolable. But the ones that really got to me were the ones who were celebrating. The exclamations of "fucking finally!", the people saying I'd never been talented enough to play for Adam in the first place, the people calling me a fame whore and saying that I'd mooched off of Adam for far too long...

I should've known better than to pay any attention to them. They were just a bunch of idiots hiding behind their computer screens, kissing Adam's cyber-butt. But it still hurt. It was like they didn't even give a shit that I was an actual person. A person who had just lost a job he'd _loved_. I wasn't deserving of any kind of sympathy, I wasn't even deserving of a little merciful _silence_.

Taylor tried to tell me that they were thoughtless, cruel, insensitive jerks. That I was better than them. That nothing they said was true. And deep down, some part of me believed him. But that part couldn't hear anything he said over all of the hateful words blaring in my mind. I knew myself well enough to know that I was reaching a point where I was highly likely to blow up at someone who had done absolutely nothing wrong, and the last thing I needed was to have an actual reason to hate my own guts. Apparently there are enough people out there taking care of that for me.

So I left.

It's not like I just walked out or anything. I told Taylor I needed some time, and he understood. He made me promise not to drink too much, which was frustrating (but let's face it, it was also totally necessary), and I warned him that I was going to turn my phone off so that I wouldn't spend the entire evening on Twitter. It was definitely an improvement over how I'd handled my last disappearing act.

I had planned on driving to one of my favorite bars in Burbank and drowning my sorrows. I'd promised Taylor that I wouldn't drink _too much_ , but that didn't mean I'd sworn off drinking entirely. But when I got there, I couldn't seem to make myself get out of the fucking car. I just sat there in the parking lot while my responsible, adult side tried to reason with my petulant, childish side. And for once, the childish side actually listened. It acknowledged that drinking wasn't going to change anything or make me feel any better, and that I'd only feel worse afterwards. And then it agreed to go for a drive instead.

It was pretty fucking terrifying how reasonable it was being, honestly.

I drove from Burbank out to Malibu, down to Santa Monica, then back through Beverly Hills and West Hollywood until I found myself at home again.

The sun has just set; I've been gone for almost three hours. I've missed dinner, but I made sure to be back in time to help put the kids to bed.

After taking a few more minutes to make sure I've left the majority of my frustration somewhere on the PCH, I get out of the car and make my way over to the house. As soon as I open the front door, I'm greeted by an over-excited dog and a sound that makes me want to turn right back around and leave again. It's not screaming, or crying, or bickering. It's not the kids at all.

It's Taylor fucking Swift.

I _hate_ this song!

I loathe and _detest_ this song. Penny was _obsessed_ with it when it first came out, she wanted to listen to it _all_ the damn time and it drove me crazy! But Taylor Swift is like her hero or something. She wants to be just like her, and everything Taylor Swift related makes her ridiculously happy. So I keep my mouth shut, even though all I wanna do it take her CD collection and throw it off the end of Santa Monica fucking Pier!

The last thing I needed tonight was to come home to this shit _blaring_ throughout the entire house!

I don't wanna be a dick about it, but she could at least turn it the fuck down! And I'm about to go into the family room and tell her just that (minus the cussing), but what I see when I get there makes me stop dead in my tracks. I seriously can't fucking move, or speak, or think.

Actually, that's a lie. I can think. And right now I'm thinking, " _what the fuck have I just walked in to?!_ "

The only person in the room who doesn't look like they've completely lost their mind is Ezra. He's lounging in an armchair playing some handheld video game, with his long-ass legs sprawled across an ottoman. Every so often he glances up at his dad and his siblings, smiling and shaking his head at them before returning his attention to his game. River and Viggo are bouncing up and down on the couch, both of them wearing backwards baseball caps and shades. River is pounding a pair of drumsticks against thin air (and his rhythm is scarily spot on), and Viggo is pretending to play the mini Strat that I gave his older brother as a birthday gift a few years ago. Then there's Asta and Penny, prancing around the room and pretending to sing into wooden spoons. Penny is way more coordinated than Asta, who is trying her hardest to imitate everything her older sister does and only succeeding in looking like she's having some kind of seizure. The fact that she's wearing her ballet costume and clearly hasn't had her hair brushed since she woke up from her nap this afternoon makes her look even crazier.

But none of those things are really what brought me to a standstill.

It's my husband.

My plastic tiara wearing, hot pink feather boa sporting, dancing-like-no-one's-watching husband. I knew he was a fucking dork, but this is a new level of ridiculous, even for him! And he's not going to believe how stupid he looks unless he sees it for himself, which is exactly why I'm turning on my cell phone for the first time all evening just so I can film him.

It takes him a while to notice me standing here, but when he does it only gives him pause for a couple of seconds. Then he's back to dancing around the room with his daughters again like this isn't quite possibly the most _shameful_ thing he's _ever_ been caught doing!

I _won't_ smile.

I know he wants me to, but I will not smile.

This is _not_ funny, it's fucking disgusting.

Suddenly he's looking at me again, _lip syncing_ at me, and all I can do is shake my head at him in disapproval.

And try like hell _not_ to fucking smile!

" _Just think, while you've been getting down and out_

_About the liars and the dirty, dirty cheats of the world,_

_You could've been gettin' down to this. sick. beat!_ "

Fuck you, Taylor.

This is _not_ gonna work!

I stop recording and stuff my phone back into the pocket of my jeans, folding my arms defiantly across my chest and fixing him with an unaffected stare as he points at me and continues shaking his ass all over the family room.

" _And to the fella over there_

_With the hella good hair,"_

Oh, shit, he's coming over here. I fucking hope this thing he's infected with isn't contagious...

" _Won't you come on over, baby,_

_We can shake, shake, shake..."_

I manage to maintain my unimpressed expression right up until he takes his feather boa and wraps it around my waist, using it to shimmy me closer, until I'm right up against him. Then he kisses me right on the tip of my nose, and I instinctively scrunch my face up in response. He's wearing one of the most playful smirks I've _ever_ seen on him, and I'm fully aware that the kids are all watching, waiting to see what I'm going to do now.

I don't wanna do it.

I _don't_...

But fuck it, I am.

Taylor laughs out loud as soon as I snatch the feather boa out of his hands and start waving it around over my head, and out of the corner of my eye I can see River and Viggo practically falling off of the couch in amusement. If anyone else in the world was watching, I don't think I could do this. I don't think I could allow myself to be seen jumping around to T-fucking-Swizzle, I'd rather shoot myself.

But they're not just anyone. They're mine. They're my family.

They're the most important thing in my life.

And right now, _somehow_ , this moment of insanity with the six most incredible people I've ever known is exactly what I need. My darkness is no match for their light. They remind me all over again of how fucking _good_ I've got it. Because seriously, how many people have this? Everyone should, but I know not everyone does.

 _I_ do.

And it means _everything_ to me. They mean _everything_ to me.

I'm the luckiest motherfucker on the goddamn planet.

_'Cause the player's gonna play, play, play, play, play_

_And the hater's gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate_

_Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake_

_Shake it off, shake it off!_

 


End file.
